


Quentasta

by Varaen



Series: Fills for LLA 2016 [9]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elves, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varaen/pseuds/Varaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Táranis was known for the frivolity of her compositions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quentasta

**Author's Note:**

> For the 20.04 prompt: Putting Herself Back in the Narrative  
> This is a semi-sequel to the mirror-prompt's fill (#3, Lindimaitar)  
> Quentasta is Quenya for 'historical record'

Since coming to Middle-Earth, she had recorded everything she witnessed with utmost accuracy and painstaking detail, and her collection of second-hand accounts was unrivalled. Unfortunately, this also meant that her recollections were distinct and highly recognizable, and gaining prominence for her art would ruin her efforts to remain unremarkable and forgotten. Her pride would not allow her to pass off her own creations as the work of another, but neither could she remain silent.

And so Táranis hid her remembrance of Valinor behind flowery metaphors and tales of young love. Her grief turned into autumn leaves and harvest hymns. She remembered the hollowed cheeks and empty eyes of the survivors of Helcaraxë, but few saw them when she sang of snowfall and frozen skies. And when she praised the beauty of the stars, Eärendil’s most of all, there always was a hidden note of wistful longing for the Silmarils that had brought her and her kin so much sorrow, and caused them to bring even more pain upon others and themselves.

Most of all, she sang of the sea. She assumed that her husband was still wandering the shores, singing his regrets to Belegaer, but her aim was another one. Although she had crossed the sea only once, in the stolen swan-ships of Alqualondë, Táranis knew the ocean well. She had witnessed its wrath and its kindness, and her songs balanced both. Into them, she poured all her sea-longing along with the homesickness that made even the visiting Silvan elves weep.

Thus she watched, and waited, and remembered. One day, she would sail home, and tell the true history of her people. She had it all prepared, tome after tome filled with her neat handwriting, hidden away in her quarters. She had written with Sarati, first out of spite, later out of habit. It was better that none stumble upon her work and read it. The right time was yet to come.


End file.
